


Now is Not a New Begining

by hjbaltimore



Series: The Lernaean Problem [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drunk!Steve, Drunkenness, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3396302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hjbaltimore/pseuds/hjbaltimore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He should've tried chugging Cocoroco ages ago. </i>
</p><p> </p><p>Steve Rogers can't get drunk? Well, not with that attitude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He was drunk as _shit._

__

Steve stumbled into his bedroom. He fell face first on the mattress with an absurdly drawn out groan, only mustering barely enough energy to turn his head and not suffocate. His head was buzzing and his whole body felt like it could melt anything it touched. He should've tried chugging Cocoroco ages ago.

Apparently, he was a talkative drunk, because Tony said he started ranting about minimum wage and veteran's health care. Steve didn't remember that, but he did remember fantasizing about gouging some guy's eyes out. He'd been a very large, red faced, angry man ejecting spittle and ranting right back at Steve about something or other. Next thing he knew, Tony shoved him through his front door and ordered him to sober up. Steve may or may not have slurred "fuck you, I'm a captain" back.

Jesus, how long had it been? Since '39? Who knows, who cares. This is the best he's felt since the night in London when Peggy wore that red dress.

What could have been...

Steve shook it off and groaned again. None of that. Drunk. Good feelings. Too hot. Why is it so goddamn hot?

 **  
** He tried to shimmy out of his t-shirt. He gave up halfway through; the shirt collar looped around the back of his neck, and his arms stuck out at an angle, still trapped in the sleeves. Steve flopped back down and stared at the ceiling. The sun wasn't even viable, but the last flickers of light peaked just over the horizon. His eyes fluttered shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please look at this picture of Bucky in his dumb leather jacket and stupid 40's haircut
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> also, he starts crying literally in the next panel, then swears to kill Tony on the next page. He has a lot of emotions. 


	2. Chapter 2

It felt like only a minute, but it was pitch black outside now, and the overhead lamp was on instead. Bucky stood over him swaying a little, like a kid who'd been caught shoplifting. Steve furrowed his brow and gurgled a little in confusion.

"Steve, you weren't-"

He narrowed his eyes and reached up to grab Bucky by the shoulder. Bucky stiffened, but didn't make a move or try to jerk away. He just kind of looked sad. Steve yanked him down, and placed a sloppy kiss in the corner of his mouth.

"Are you drunk?" Bucky asked breathlessly.

"How c'you tell?"

"You smell like you bathed in rubbing alcohol. And your shirt is halfway off." Bucky moved Steve into a sitting position and yanked it off the rest of the way. There was a stream of dried spit on Steve cheek. Bucky rubbed it off with his gloved hand. "Thought you couldn't get drunk."

"You can with sixteen ounces of a 95% proof."

"Jesus Christ, Steve!"

"I didn' drink all of it. Just like... sveight shots. I dunno where the rest..." he twisted his head around the room, "Buck, I think I lost the rest of it."

"'Sveight'?"

"Yeh. Maybe... double that..."

"Uh huh. Pretty sure even you would have died from that. Stop trying to show off."

Steve laughed. Bucky snorted, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. He pushed Steve back down on the bed, gently, and slipped out of the room. He came back a minute later with a large mixing bowl and three glasses of ice water precariously balanced in his arms.

"Here, this in case you gotta puke," he set the bowl on the nightstand, "and this is because you're probably pretty thirsty." Bucky took Steve's hand and curled his fingers around the glass, only letting go when he was sure Steve had a grip on it.

Steve was entranced by it, like he wasn't sure how it got there, before knocking the whole glass back in one gulp. He narrowed his eyes at Bucky again. He looked tired, but better than he'd last seen him, if you would call a brief glimpse of him running away "seeing". He'd clearly cut his hair back to it's old style, but it was already overgrown and reaching past his ears. Bucky wore a black leather jacket, same as last time, but with some band t-shirt underneath, and skinny jeans. Steve never saw the point in skinny jeans before this moment, and was suddenly glad they were a thing. He radiated an odor of fruity soap.

"Jeez, Steve. You weren't suppose to know I was here. You were suppose to be asleep. I just wanted to check on you."

"Yeah well m'drunk. Nest bex- next best think... thing right?" Steve said with only a hint of bitterness, gulping down the another glass.

"I'm sorry,” he whispered, shuffling his feet a little. “I just need some more time to work things out.”

Steve tried to say something, only to be lost as an incomprehensible gargle in the third glass of water. Bucky sat down next to him, and Steve not-so-subtly slid over to rest his head on Bucky’s left shoulder.

“I started dating,” he announced in an almost apologetic tone. Bucky carefully twisted himself around and began to thread his fingers through Steve’s short hair. He smiled weakly.

“Yeah, I know pal. Sharon is nice. You’ll do good with her.”

Steve shrugged. “Mm.”

"Listen, Steve. The reason I wanted to check on you was 'cus I'm going on a mission for a while, and I don't know when I'll be back. Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone, alright?" There was a desperate, silent plea in his voice.

 

"You're taking all the trouble with you," Steve yawned.

 

Bucky snorted again, still stroking Steve's hair. "I didn't even set you up for that, dumbass."

“Mm.”

He was falling asleep. Bucky wondered if it would be okay to leave him like this. What if he stopped breathing, or choked in his sleep? What if he had alcohol poisoning? Could the serum protect him against all that? Fuck Stark. Fuck him. He was Steve’s friend wasn't he? They were together for a good portion of the day (not that he was following them or anything), so he had to know Steve was like this. How could he just leave him?

“This is the best dream… dream? Hallucination ever,” Steve muttered. “I got you here and no one’s even punching each other.”

Before Bucky could even react, Steve bent over and grabbed a bottle from under the bed and started chugging it. Bucky snatched it from his hands.

“Steve what the hell! You said you lost the rest!”

“‘Membered where I put it.”

He trudged into the bathroom, not breaking his glaring eye contact with Steve the whole time, and poured the rest of it down the sink before unceremoniously dumping the bottle in the trash. “This isn’t like you at all. You aren’t a big fan of drinking period, let alone getting drunk.”

“I like to pretend I could be the kind of guy who does. I wanna make it last longer.”

“Make what last longer.”

“You. Being here.”

“Goddamit Steve,” Bucky yelled. “If this was a dream how would that even work. The fucking drink wouldn’t be real eith-"

Bucky stopped and took a deep breath, not wanting to turn around and look at him. He clenched and unclenched his fists with a deep sigh, rolling his shoulders before looking back.

Steve had made himself as small as his bulk would allow. His focus was needled in on Bucky’s left shoulder. In the smallest possible voice he asked, smile tugging at his lips, “Did you get my shield painted on your arm?”

Bucky set his jaw and hurriedly straightened out the jacket. “Better than a Soviet star,” he grumbled.

“How much do you remember Buck?”

Steve had gotten up, only stumbling a little, and looked at him with those overly concerned puppy eyes. The same look he gave when walking out of Azzano, or when he found out Bucky’s grandmother died before Bucky did.

Bucky shrugged. “Hard to say.”

“What about the new arm? You didn’t--”

“Not from Hydra. God no Steve. I can’t tell you where, but they’re trustworthy. Probably. Ju-just… just don’t worry about it okay?”

Steve was right up in his face now, looking him up and down. He might need to back away. He should back away. He should be stopping this and backing away right now.

Steve’s lips were on his and it was so sweet and desperate; it didn’t feel like a drunken kiss, and Bucky pushed in a little. Steve’s hand looped around his waist and pulled them closer while also moving them into a corner of the room. He had to squash the instinct in his gut that told him to knock Steve through the wall for that. He honestly could melt right here into Steve’s arms and never move again, except now Steve was getting excited. He jerked his hips forward and--

Bucky pushed him away with a gasp and had to wipe away the spit they’d been swapping.

He just looked so goddamn sad. Bucky held Steve’s head in his hands and placed a much more innocent kiss to his forehead. He pushed him onto the bed, urging him to lay on his side.

“I’m sorry Steve. It’s just you’re--”

“Drunk. Yeah.”

“I’ll stay with you for a bit while you sleep, but we can’t do that.”

He nodded, throwing himself down on the pillows. Bucky swept some hair aside and tried to look happy enough for the both of them.

“I could come with you,” he offered, eyes drooping. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

Bucky let out a choked off half laugh, half sob. “I do. I do it's... it's not gonna be pretty. Nothing heroic. Can't have _Captain America_ 's good named ruined."

 

"M'not Captain America. He doesn't exist," he said flatly, eyes shut.

 

"But _you_ do. I rememb- well, I figured it out, anyway. I'm your weapon. You can't get your hands dirty, but I can, okay? I'll take care of it. But you gotta to stay away from me. I need you to promise that, Steve. Steve?"

 

His chest rose and fell so subtly, it would have been easy to assume he was dead. Bucky carefully tucked a few pillows around to keep him propped up, turning back with a heavy sigh as he head towards the bedroom window. Security here was shit; Bucky didn't need to do more than dodge a couple cameras and a guard near the entrance. Hell, he'd shimmied open the window latch with a bent up metal hanger and his fingers. It wouldn't take long for Hydra to figure out Steve was staying here, assuming they didn't already.

 

Why was he so against self preservation?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Sharon are doomed as a couple no matter what universe they're in, tbh.


	3. Chapter 3

Someone was banging on his door.

 

He woke up with a start. Bucky was nowhere in sight, and Steve had to squash down the small, hopeful ache in his chest. He rolled out of bed and opened the door to Tony, who was in the process of fitting on an Iron Man gauntlet.

"Geez, finally," said he, lowering his arm away from the door. "Was ready to bust down your door, old man. Thought maybe you'd broken a hip or something."

 

"Tony, you are aware I don't own this condo right? I'm just renting it for a bit?"

 

"Yeah well if you'd just stay at the tower, I wouldn't have to worry so much."

 

Steve rolled his eyes. "We've already been over this."

 

"Yeah yeah, closer to whatever it is you're doing or something... did you receive any late night booty calls? Specifically, the Russian-y kind with limb prosthetics?" Tony pushed his way in and shut the door behind them, doing a quick double take for anyone else in the hall.

 

"He's not Russian, and yes," Steve rolled his head a bit. "Assuming I didn't dream all that last night. Honestly it's all a bit fuzzy."

 

"I can't believe you, getting lit like that. There are children crying over their fallen idol. Anyway, caught sight of Barnes. A flower shop a few blocks over from here about three hours ago. It's actually noon right now Cap. I want to make sure you to know that."

 

"Yes I get it, you're very disappointed. What was he doing?" Steve wandered into the bedroom grabbed a shirt lying on the floor.

 

"Buying flowers, believe it or not."

 

Steve stopped at that for and scrunched his brow together. "That's... a little weird. For who?" he asked, grabbing his shoes.

 

"Someone with the last name Proctor. JARVIS got the address so come on! Let's move."

* * *

 

It was nice apartment, and the doorman immediately waved them in upon recognition. Naturally, he didn't see Bucky come in; it would have surprised Steve more if anyone had. Steve made Tony stand back and politely knocked on the door, which was then opened to an older woman. She had to be at mid-sixties.

 

"Captain Rogers!" she exclaimed. "James said you might be coming by. Please come in."

 

"Ms... Proctor?" Steve asked as Tony shuffled into the home behind him. 

 

"Yes?"

 

"Is James still here?"

 

"No I'm afraid not. He came by a couple hours ago and gave me some lovely flowers. Just look at this card."

 

She handed him a generic store card that said "It's Your Birthday, Niece!" in curly lavender script, and the word "belated" scribbled between "your" and "birthday". 

_Sorry I missed your birthday!_

_-Uncle James_

Steve could barely hold back a grin at the idea of Bucky being anyone's uncle. And then he felt bad-- the idea of seeking out any of Bucky's family hadn't even crossed his mind. It probably would have been weird anyway, he thought. But still.

 

"Now you don't have to, but he promised as a present that, when you came here, you would sign this for me." She pulled out a glossy photo of Steve at his first show on tour with the USO. Steve felt his face heating up and Tony's eyes on him, grinning wide like he'd won the jackpot. She handed him a sharpie she already had on her, ready for this moment. "Just your name would be  _fantastic_ Captain."

 

Steve wanted to cry. Or laugh. Something. Bucky was okay. He was getting  _better._  

 

He finished signing, and Ms. Proctor smiled at him. "James also said this would be a great way to stall you. I'm not sure why, but he seemed to be getting a kick out of it, so who was to not help?"

 

Steve rolled his eyes.

 

"I guess he didn't tell you where he was going either, huh?" Tony chimed in.

 

She shook her head. "Just that it was for work."

* * *

 

Steve thanked Ms. Proctor and made as hasty an exist as he plausibly could. They made it about halfway down the hall and Steve doubled over, hand's on his knees to steady himself and took a deep breath.

 

Tony stopped dead in his tracks and made a move to put his hands on Steve's back, recoiling at the last second. "Jeez Cap, you alright?"

 

"Yeah, yeah." A a short, nervous laugh escaped his lips. "That's just not how I was expecting all that to go. I glad. More than glad. Amazed," he said breathlessly.

 

"Well, he remembers enough to track down family members and sign birthday cards," Tony sighed. "For whatever that's worth. Still, he can't have gotten too far. We could probably track down where he's headed."

 

The corners of Steve's mouth twitched. "I don't know if we should."

 

Tony raised an eyebrow. "You're joking right? Guy's off his rocker. He can't be out there alone."

 

"Stark, emotionless assassins don't buy flowers for people. He's doing a thousand times better than I thought he was. He told me to back off and maybe-- well, maybe I should. Just for a little while."

 

"You want to stop looking for him? The same guy who, not too long ago, Barton had to physically hold you back from jumping out a fourth story window for?"

 

Steve clenched his hands anxiously. "That's not what I mean. I want to find him but I think I might need to keep my distance." He stood up and continued on towards the elevator.

 

"You don't it seems weird that the guy is walking, talking... running around like someone who hasn't spent the past 70 years as a PoW?" Tony continued.

 

"He's recovering on his own," Steve said, voice steadily becoming more confident. "Whatever he's setting out to do, maybe it's part of that. I want to find him in case he needs help, and nothing else."

 

" _He_ probably doesn't know what he's doing _._ We need to find him and bring him in before he hurts anyone-- assuming he hasn't already. You don't just 'recover' on your own from trauma like that. Trust me."

 

"He's not dangerous."

 

"Isn't he?"

 

Steve straightened his back and set his jaw, smiling with spite radiating from just under his skin. "Bucky's never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. I don't know whether he's totally got himself together, or if he ever will again. But when I talked to him last night, he was sure of himself and of what he needed to do. I say we can give him the benefit of the doubt."

 

"You were drunk out of your mind when he was telling you this!"

 

"I'm not bringing him in," he snapped. "Bucky isn't a criminal. I'm not going to lock him up anywhere. End of discussion."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ended up so more dialogue heavy than anticipated


End file.
